Grim Tales: Fear The Reaper
by TheGuyWithTheGun
Summary: In an alternate future, Grim Jr and Minimandy are trapped on earth during a war between the Netherworlds, meaning they have no way of getting home, no powers, and they are rendered mortal.


JULY 8TH,

2026

A POSSIBLE FUTURE

AREA FORMERLY KNOWN AS ARIZONA

Wind howls ferociously, whipping over the sandblasted landscape. It sounds, ironically, like a solemn, sad type of cry. Not the kind of anguished, agonized cry that you would expect from a world ravaged by apocalyptic fury. The wind stirs the sand, conjuring apparitions that are here called dust devils. Surprisingly, nothing supernatural about them.

I'm small, and I'm light on my feet, but I'm not exactly as fast as I'd like to be. Especially here. Despite this, I move as fast and quiet as I can manage, sliding just in time into the open doorway of my designated cover; a large aluminum shack, possibly at some point some sort outpost. There's a lot more of these out here in the desert, since they usually don't come out this far.

My name is Grim Junior. My dad is the sovereign of the underworld, the Master of Death. The Grim Reaper.

Yeah.

He dwells in a kingdom of darkness, an ethereal realm just beyond reality. We're supposed to be able to move between our world and your "real" world. I don't know the particulars; I'm just a kid in a bad spot. All I know is we can't go home. Not anymore.

I clutch my weapon as if my life depends on it. It does, in fact. I look around the room, searching for the next closest exit. I'm surprised to see that my sister's right there. Y'know, like, _right there_. Ever have that happen, when someone just suddenly seems to be behind you, when there's no possible way they could've gotten behind you without making noise? Yeah, more often than not with my sister.

I'm sixteen. My sister is fourteen. But that said, forget that fact. I mean, I know I just said it and all, but that's just to set some stuff straight, make sure there's no confusion. But you see, my sister and I, we've been through _stuff_. I mean, that's pretty evident just knowing what we are. My sister's real dad is a demon called Nergal. Don't know exactly who I actually owe my existence to, though. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

The shadow is rapidly passing over the shack, blotting out the sun, raisin the wind so a deafening roar, soon merging with the sound of thousands of wings beating. We really shouldn't be here.

I realize I've been moving toward the window, because Minimandy grabs my shirt and pulls me back with a sharp yank. Fearful of vocally expressing my annoyance of her rather unsubtle correction, I spin and shrug pointedly. She simply points toward a door, which she proceeds to head toward. Tiptoeing, I follow her through the doorway.

She had obviously scoped this place out pretty well beforehand, because the door leads to a garage, and the garage contains the meanest car I've ever seen. The thing is a matte-black jeep, military issue. Reinforced with roll bars over every vulnerable surface – including the windows – equipped with a .50 cal mounted machine gun and nasty-looking blades on the sides and hood; it looks like these spin when the car is running.

Walking around the side, I realize why this thing hasn't been looted yet; on the driver's side, a prostrate form clings to the door handle with a death-grip. Looks like he's been dead for a while; blued skin, shrunken, clinging to the bones.

Minnie comes around the other side of the car, sees the body. Obviously, she's seeing a little more than just another stiff, because her eye goes all wide and shocked. She walks over to the body, uses her rifle to turn it in my direction. Seeing it a little more clearly, I understand her shock. The body's entire torso has exploded outward, a representation of something tearing free from inside.

I can't help but throw up a little in my mouth. Minnie notices my expression, nods. She pries the body's fingers off of the handle (with some difficulty) and climbs in. I'm embarrassed to say it, but she's a way better driver than me. Before closing the door, she signals that I should take the gun turret. Just like Minnie to give me the position where I would feel most comfortable.

We wait.

It feels like hours, but in reality, it's probably only a few minutes. The horrible droning outside finally fades into the distance, and we know we have very little time before another patrol comes around. Minnie turns the key, and the jeep comes to life with a roar that makes us both cringe. Before I can even recover my grip on the gun, Minnie shifts out of park and punches the gas, the vehicle exploding right through the garage door.

Bad idea, 'cause we were assuming that the patrol was the only thing out there. And it wasn't.

The thing is about eight feet tall, and looks a little human. A little, meaning it has a head, and two arms, and two legs. But it looks kind of like if you took a scorpion, a frog, a dude, and some sort of flesh eating virus and threw them in a blender on "frappe". And it's got a head that nearly splits in half when it opens its mouth to screech at us, revealing at least a dozen rows of teeth.

Oddly, I suddenly feel right at home.

The thing is bounding towards us now, and I noticed Minnie isn't driving.

"Punch it, don't stop!" I yell.

As she hits the gas, I realize now that I have a rather large gun in my hands. Spinning the turret to face the snarling creature that is now behind us, and I pull the trigger.

I've fired a gun before, but nothing like this. The report and the recoil are so powerful that I can feel the vibrations in my teeth.

I watch as the ammo chain is eaten up alarmingly quick as the gun continues to spew .50 caliber rounds toward the pursuing beast. Then, suddenly, it stops. Just a hollow, disappointing "click" comes when I try to pull the trigger. I look over the turret to see that I had in fact hit the monster; it is riddled with holes that are spewing dark-green blood – I could swear I can even see through some of them. And yet it was still coming. In fact, I think I kinda pissed it off.

I look around the bed of the jeep, searching desperately for more bullets. After finding none, I half curse the dead guy from the garage for lacking the foresight to stock sufficient ammo stores. My hair whipping in my face from the speed, I steal a glance over my shoulder; Minnie is driving with a white-knuckle grip, the speedometer reading 98.

I scoop up my other weapon, a 12-guage pump shotgun. Only three rounds, and if .50 cal didn't do anything, then this wouldn't, either. And not to mention my inability to summon my powers of Nergal. Stupid rules of engagement. But as I look towards the rear of the jeep, I see that the thing is doing nothing if not gaining.

I figure it's better than nothing, so I rack a shell into the chamber of the gun, and aim. I want this to find its mark right on the thing's head. If it even is its head.

What happens next is a kinda spotty in my memory. Minnie must have hit something, because the next thing I know the jeep is flipping over, tumbling. Somehow I manage to hold onto the turret and stay in the bed of the jeep, but now the car is upside-down, and I'm pinned under it. And since here I have lungs, it isn't a very good thing that almost the entire weight of the jeep is pressing down on them. I remember my vision going blurry, black specks appearing. I think I see the creature… explode. Like someone shot it with a rocket. Then this figure, standing over me, smiling.

Those glowing red eyes…


End file.
